


But I Knew Him

by ohstucky



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Brief implied sexual abuse, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, M/M, Mild descriptions of violence, Stucky - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-23 03:08:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12497308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohstucky/pseuds/ohstucky
Summary: His mind is screaming at him, begging, pleading with him for something, replaying the man saying "Bucky?" to him in that heart-wrenching voice, over and over, until his whole being hurts with the weight of it.Basically Bucky's thoughts in the scene in the vault from CA:TWS.





	But I Knew Him

**Author's Note:**

> This is from that heartbreaking scene in the vault. If you wanna watch it again, it's on YouTube https://youtu.be/cGkkfzrgk_I

The asset has been out of cryofreeze for too long. Flashes of memory are coming back to him like the they always do when this happens, tinged with pain and the unfamiliar bitterness of sorrow.

This time is different. 

Zola's voice echoes through the snow as it usually does. "Sergeant Barnes," he sneers, and the asset's mind burns with the new knowledge that ice and lighting have seared from his mind; his old name, a lasting remnant of an identity unknown to him.

Hydra's scientists surround his limp body like always, searing their metal weapon through nerves and skin and bone and sinew into the bloody stump bedside him. For once, the agony which the memory brings barely registers.

Because there's something else there, something new, something he just knows is dangerous for him to remember, forcing its way out of the broken edges of his mind. There is the swift rush of a train cutting through the snowy mountains, and he is falling, falling, losing himself to the snow, and his scream echoes in his ears. But there is a louder, more desperate, heartbroken scream. It's him again, the man on the bridge, reaching out, yelling that same name after him, "Bucky!", in a way that cuts to the core of the asset, though decades of brainwashing and programming. 

For one split second, the asset's mind is strong, and clear enough for him to lash out at the nearest technician, but a roomful of danger is trained on him in an instant. He returns to his confusion. He doesn't know why the man addresses him with that name or why it seems to tug at something inside him. The asset is only filled with is the knowledge that the man is someone who he has known, and forgotten, for a long, long time.

Much, much too late, the asset registers Pierce's entrance and his following orders, and is grateful to merely be slapped across the face in punishment. Not even a weapon such as himself could take anything else in that moment. Still, even then, he is unable to reply, unable to even think for even one second about anything, anything but-

But him.

"The man on the bridge,   
who was he?"

The asset doesn't have room in his mind to marvel at his sheer foolishness in daring to address the handlers like that, or to be gripped by the fear of what awful thing they would do to rip that small piece of insubordination out of him forever. For the first time in the fragments of his remaining memory, he is not afraid, not even the prospect of the worst tortures, of them slowly shaving the skin from his body, burning him until his vocal chords gave out from screaming, sparking electricity through his brain until blood streamed crimson from his eyes and ears, stripping him and showering him with acid until he could only lay motionless and be their plaything. His mind is screaming at him, begging, pleading with him for something, replaying the man saying "Bucky?" to him in that heart-wrenching voice, over and over, until his whole being hurts with the weight of it. There was something so familiar about the man, something that tugged at the corners of his brain that Zola and Pierce and everyone in between had picked out and played and played with until there was nothing left.

Almost nothing.

"You met him earlier this week on another assignment."

The sheer shock at having his question answered, at being heard, being listened to, at words which came from the mouth they liked to muzzle like an animal's being worthy of a response, is paralysing. 

There is something wrong. 

Desperation seizes him and his mind is screaming louder and louder and it's too much; the only thing he knows is that he is more sure that the man is familiar. Something about the way he moved, like a pattern that the asset had once been trained to know; the way he spoke the name on the bridge and above the snow like it it was precious, like it meant something to him; the way his eyes shone with emotion. 

"I knew him."

He does not now why Pierce bothers with the following persuasions, he is just a gun, a weapon, a thing for them to use. The asset has always done everything they have asked. He has never known anything else.

Except this man.

This man, whose broken speech had followed him from the moments before he lost himself to the ice, all the way to today. It shouldn't be possible. It can't be. 

Those blue eyes mean something to him. He knows that for a fact, and he knows that for some unfathomable reason, seeing the heartbreak in them brings back the bitterness of sorrow that the asset stopped feeling years ago. It hurts him that this man is hurt, his heartbreak is breaking the careful conditioning of the asset's mind, and somehow, from somewhere, he is struck with the strength to hold off his obedience for a while longer. He will not respond in the affirmative, he will not ask for the next mission, at least not yet. Not while his mind is still splitting itself in half, with the knowledge that whatever his motives were, the man on the bridge recognised him.

And the asset recognised him too.

"But I knew him."

His mind is spinning now, with flashes of soft blond hair, running his hands through it- not to hurt, but to play, to tease, and the smile that lit those blue eyes, making them shine up at him, not in malice, but with joy, with love. The asset does not recognise the pain that follows, agony streaking through his heart. This is worse, he thinks, than anything they have done to him. This will not stop, it will not heal, it will not go away.

Vaguely, he hears his handler telling them to wipe him again, and lets them manhandle him back into position, biting into the metal gag as if it will help him to cling onto this new knowledge. The asset does not want to forget, this is much too important, these memories, this man, and he knows with a swift certainty that he would die for him, but it is too late.

Sparks crackle through his skull, and his pain echoes around the chamber. The asset feels the blood leave him, sliding down his face, taking everything he just realised with it.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry! If it's any condolence, i cried a lot while writing this.


End file.
